Andromeda ; The Queen

[Yamnothere 197]

Thuraria first met the three travelers when she was only six years old. She had looked up at their pale skins, dirtied by the constant unsettled dust. She would hide behind her mother’s dark skirts, tiny hands clutching the fabric. Her mind could not comprehend their existence, or why they cared for her people. They always looked tired, exhausted, they had seen something.

Their clothes were rags, but the people who wore them looked odd. Rarely would the tribe give birth to pale children, they were called “star-children” and she was one of them. Her name meant, “Star of my life” and she was the chieftain’s favorite child. Although, the other children hated her, she found herself mostly alone.

To Thuraria’s amazement, these three strangers were as pale as the moon. They had browned a little around their clothes, but when they took the brown rags to wash them, their chests looked silver. The tribe took them into their lives quick because of the tales they told, but most of all because they were the creator’s messengers. The strangest thing to the small child was their hair. Three of them had the hair color of the sand upon which her tribe traveled upon; the other had a soft brown color, like the color of leather.

The youngest approached her, his expression slightly amused; he bent down on one knee. “How old are you sweet-heart?” She was shocked.

His eyes were the shade of the colored star her family followed, Andromeda. They were blue, rimmed in a light gold color. Her quiet seemed to make him laugh.

“What’s wrong little one?”

“Your eyes…”

He looked confused as he stood up, brushing the sand off of his ripped pants. “What about them?” He ruffled her pitch-black hair, “I think yours are prettier.”

Her eyes? She never even saw the color of her eyes, no one ever mentioned to her before what they looked like. “My eyes are brown, like everyone else’s.” She spoke up bravely now, letting defiance soak through her voice.

“Oh? Are they? Maybe I am blind, because to me they are a violet color.” He turned away with a smile, heading back up to his brothers. All Thuraria could do was stand there in awe.

“Thuraria! Thuraria! Where are you darling?” Her mother had a frantic tone in her voice. She never let Thuraria wander, because she was so precious to the tribe.

“Here!” She raced back to her, her mind spinning. ‘Violet? But what’s so special about violet. No star is violet colored.’

Her mother let out a sigh, of relief and of annoyance. “Don’t you ever leave me again, you understand?”

“Mother, what color are my eyes?”

“Why do you ask that? Eyes are not important, it’s what we use them for, to see.”

“No reason.” Thuraria gave a weak smile.

“Now, what were you doing so far away? Don’t go near these strangers, understood? They don’t need a child pestering them.”

“Yes mother.” Thuraria would say sadly, kicking the sand with her feet.

Her mother would only sigh, and smile, “Thuraria, I’m doing this for your own good, do you understand? I love you, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You are the star of my life.” She hugged the small, pale girl.

“I know… but I’m always confused about everything.”

Laughing would resonate throughout Thuraria’s ears, “That’s because you think too much my little one. Now, lets go to the feast, okay?”

Over the next few years the nomads would travel the plains, the deserts, and the tropical forests. Thuraria saw the travelers, but she never spoke to them again, she always avoided them, hurrying away quickly, especially dodging the one with blue and gold eyes and leather brown hair. It was that day that changed everything, ten years after her first meeting with the now nameless ones.

They stood in front of her tribe that day. The same tribe Thuraria grew up around, the people that ignored her, embraced her and let her grow.

She stood with an expressionless face as the nameless ones told her, with outstretched arms, they would have a nation, a society, and that they’d become a star. But how could they become a star if they were on earth? It made no sense.

The Chieftain named them City, Nation and the one she recalled, King. Why did he become the king of this new social issue? He never did anything for them, none of them did. She puffed in annoyance.

Why did they even take these three in, all they would bring was trouble, though young Thuraria would have to put on a smile, a loving one. She was the picture of the tribe, and she always had to look her best.

She was dressed in dark blue silk, collected by the silk spider’s web across the desert plains, it was rarely worn, as a rare and dangerous commodity. It was trimmed in silver and gold, to present her social status, a star-borne child. Her hair was half brought up into a bun, the tails resting against the other half of her black locks, which would fall to the small of her back. Silver bangles decorated her arms, and would not stop until her elbow, where they chimed with each step. She kept her posture, as her mother had taught her. Thuraria was to be the most beautiful being this morning, to present the joining of the two peoples into a future nation. She was just that, a pretty face, nothing more.

He came to her for the first time in ten years, wisdom greying him before his years. His eyes still sparkled the same tones of light when she came, but this time they showed greed, he was consumed. Thuraria though would not question his arrival, she was not allowed to speak, she had to keep a shut mouth, and a posture held still.

“The girl with the violet eyes is all grown.”

“Eye color does not matter, it’s what we use our eyes for that do.” She seemed like a robot; mechanically responding with what she was expected to do.

“Seems like the curious girl I knew has been replaced.” He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to fall to her knees like the rest of her moronic tribe.

“She grew up.”

“Don’t we all.” He leaned forward, taking her chin in his hand, examining her eyes. She wanted to run; Thuraria the fearless wanted to hide from those gold and blue eyes. Something about them made her uncomfortable, how cold they were compared to the real Andromeda, how unnatural they were against the cold paleness of his skin. Andromeda was nestled in darkness, shrouded in mystery. His eyes were nestled in fear, shrouded in insensitivity. She looked away out of incentive, out of reflex, “You fear me…” and then he chuckled. “You are a smart one aren’t you?” He would lean closer to her, his breath against his skin. The feeling was as if bugs crawled underneath her skin, trying to break their way out. “You really are beautiful.”

“Violet isn’t even a color of the heavens.” Thuraria would reply, her voice as cold as steel.

He let her go, leaning back, and a huge smile on his weatherworn face. “It is sweetheart. It’s the color of the setting sun; it welcomes Andromeda with open arms. It’s the introduction.” The King could only laugh, “Every heir to the throne should have violet eyes, instead of being born first.”

She froze; every heir should have violet eyes? “Shouldn’t they have blue eyes? The same color as the star we follow?” It made no sense to her.

The King would lean close again, his hand brushing away her dark hair, his forehead touching hers. Thuraria wanted to claw his eyes out, to yell at him to leave her, to leave her family. No one needed him here, he was going to cause so many problems, and their tribe would collapse and fall. “Violet is more important, more special. It means the end of dawn, or the beginning of new light. It gets rid of the darkness or it brings it forward. Thuraria you will be my first queen.”

She almost died inside; she wanted to tell him to leave her alone, to run away. The chieftain wanted this, she knew, she couldn’t say no. If she said no, she would be killed, her eyes stabbed on a separate pike to her skull, to show the tribe she could not see. “I would be honored.” Her voice was strained, pulled.

Thuraria was the first queen of Andromeda, leaving with her the tradition of violet eyes that was forgotten years later. She was only a figurehead, dressing in her best, crossing her arms, and bearing children. Thuraria would never speak, she was known as the silent queen. All she wanted was to escape, and one evening she killed herself, slitting her wrist.

The blood looked like a million roses flooding from the small gash in her pale skin, it would flow and blanket her body like a lover. The queen would sigh, her pains finished forever.

Like that, the traditions of the nomads left.

Everything became just what the travelers tried to escape.

And all that was left of these people were the violet eyes, appearing only in royalty, and bearing names of their forbearers, of their ancestors.

The rest was a phantom.

Again, let us thank our amazing; Kitty00009 For this wonderful peice of writing, Dank'ye

[Knox213 10]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.